Tale for my angels

„What if your guardian angel is a pervert?“, my witch giggles into her hot chocolate as we try to make ourselves as comfortable as the dark months allow.
With hot chocolate, vanilla scented candles, and a lot of fairylights to glow in the dark and ask for the universe to keep them safe and warm in the longest of nights.

One thing, I have always loved about wandering around in old cities and towns were the statues.
Ancient faces watching over you, waiting for you at every corner, with their faces growing out of walls and into the scenery. They capture a moment of great emotion and meaning, hoping to survive through time.

„I have always liked the thought of someone watching“, I say and my witch has trouble swallowing as she cascades into another wave of witching giggles. „No, not like that!“
„But?“
„But someone seeing shit that‘s going on, and taking notice, and caring.“
Layla roles her eyes with disappointment „That is something we all like.“

When walking through Aachen, „Karl der Große“ greets you at every corner. The hills around Monschau are protected by an unidentified angel watching. In the middle of Düsseldorf, a statue reminds of a witching fate that once took place there – there are countless more examples. We really seem to like the thought of someone watching over us, of old eyes around to be with us.
They have seen a world we never knew.
They have lived through pain we never felt.

„We want them to look at us and mean well“, I agree with my witch. „And keep us safe.“
„Too bad they can also just ignore us“, she mumbled as she poured more chocolate into her cup. „Or worse, just wait for us to step over, bend over. Smirking when the heart in the chest barely covered by the nightdress breaks apart.“

It is terrifying what people do to themselves in the hope to be kept safe, don’t you think?

Unloved tale

OnceWhen someone had herShe was almost lovedBut then this someone thought:”I can’t be allShe’d ever known”And he let her go. And She ranShe ran too fastWhen she ranShe ran too far ThenShe was found againBy another strange manWho loved her recklesslyLove turned to painAnd carved his sinInto her skin And she fledShe fled too fastWhen…

Just a haunted girl scaring her friends – Writing update!

Intrigued. And quite as bit terrified.Those were the exact same words I got as feedback from my friends whom I’d recently handed the first pages of the witching novel to. Seems like I’ve accomplished my task, right? I’m the haunted girl scaring all her friends!No, but really. It felt as if I was understood through…

Tale about the softest secret

This tale is about a girl I once knew. This girl could not go anywhere without her lovely white shoes. Made of cotton, their rim did not reach her ankles, giving away how thin they were. Their soles were so slim, she felt the earth with every step. Those shoes she needed so dearly were…

Published by Mistress Witch writes

About the historical horror of living. Drafting my witching novel. Chasing dark, forgotten and haunted tales.

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